Perfectly manicured nails join his on the planchette. Rose petal tips as soft as one might assume.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" Nanette asks, voice high with excitement.

The planchette moves, and the game begins.

Yes.

"Okay, now think of a number," she's talking to Cian now, "let's see if it guesses right!" She's childish, a little girl playing her favorite game.

CIAN MAHER

isn't it just so funny? how easy it all is for her? she's unfettered, unflinching, and ultimately unbothered. "oh, right." she says, smile unwavering. "lets have them, shall we?"

the men mutter along, heads nodding. they move, and so does nanette. looping her arm under his, she expects him to lead her.

isn't it just so funny? she doesn't even seem notice his rain-soaked arm wetting layers of sheer silk, cool arm pressing into warm body.

River Marx

"i only know how to play one game."

she is a dance. fluid in the way she speaks and moves, but this sentence doesn't sound quite right. it's out of tune. has she really never learned another game in her life?

in her grasp is an ouija board, boxed up and obscured by a gorgeous leather. she's sat directly across, feet tucked under her torso, and before him, she unfolds it. setting the board up with great reverence and the softest touch. again, it's much like a dance. she is uncannily balanced and eerily even tempo.

1-and-2-and-3-and-4 so she moves.

"unless you have a preference for something else?"

CIAN MAHER

She's so far away.

Limbs move but they don't feel like her.

Soft padded feet step one in front of the other.

But she doesn't feel the warmth they provide.

Nanette is so confused.

Marionette strings pull and her mouth opens.

"Does Team Rocket have any intel on any relics?"

She pauses.

"Do you have any intel on any relics?"

Killian Decker

Perhaps they should take this more seriously, but Cleffa just stares at her opponent. Clawed, threatening, three times her size, terrifying cry piercing ear drums. And all she can do is stare. The comedy continues onward. It's an incredulous look, perpetual smile turning into a frown. Like, why is this happening?

"Copycat."

Almost involuntarily, Cleffa lets out the exact cry. Drowning out that of her opponent.

Nanette's laughter is overshadowed by the yelling pokemon.

♀ magic guard / pound, sweet kiss, charm, encore, copycat, disarming voice

jayden cross

The pokemon makes such a harsh sound, metal grinding against metal. The noise causes Nanette to flee. 

She wanders along the paths of route 116. Wide eyes and summer dress dragging along the scenery. It feels good, air through thin fabric kisses at her skin. Ah, how angel sighs. 

She’s still unsure what to do as she’s not quite used to this yet. Nanette doesn’t quite fit the pace of battle. She is languid. Her gaze is lava, wide, all consuming, but viscous. Steady, but slow. 

Still, she can’t panic. She doesn’t know how.

”Alcremie use Aromatic Mist, if you could.”

And she does. From between the folds of cream a scent permeates. So pungent, so saccharine, it almost has a hue, staining the area around their little baby Pokémon. It weakens the spray of acid, combatting it’s potency. It only just stings young Cleffa, burning little holes in her sweet armor.

However, Alcremie takes the full brunt of Mud Shot. What was once glossy and smooth and so, so perfect, dirties with sludge. 

Nanette is stunned, seeing her pokemon in such an ugly state.

”Recover...”

Dirtied cream slips from Alcremie. It pools around her in a sloppy mess, sugar and milk and dirt swirl at her feet. Fresh new cream forms in its place, quickly molding to Alcremie’s form. 

Nanette would’ve commanded Cleffa too, but the damage is already done. Acid, as weak as it was, stings at her skin, and once again she lets out a disarming voice. The sharp cry of a young babe sounds over the arena once again.




♀ sweet veil / decorate, acid armor, dazzling gleam, attract, recover, aromatic mist[break][break]


♀ magic guard / pound, sweet kiss, charm, encore, copy cat, disarming voice

boruta maher

Munna is there. 

Sound asleep.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Dream mist is an opaque cloud fogging dear Nanette’s mind. 

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Nanette’s demeanor changes. She’s sharper, golden eyes molten. Viscous they pour over her surroundings, spilling into Killian. Her gaze burns. 

It’s because of those damned cookies, but Killian is at fault too. Would anyone have cared if a dwarf ate a poisoned apple? No, the story only works if Snow White gulps down her curse. And a curse this is. 

For as sharp as Nanette has become, Killian has dulled. His senses, his faculties, his mind.

”Now let’s begin,” says the witch.

Killian Decker

She remembered something.

Perhaps it was the knots in the trees, old and wooded, carved lines etched into tough skin like the wrinkles of an old man. Maybe it was the scent. Wild, free. Flowers and animals and life unrefined. Could it have been the setting? All these things working together? All just to plant a seed in her simple, little brain.

Somewhere between reality and not it grew. Vines and broad leaves and vibrant floral. It grew. And grew. Until it became more. This life and the last bloomed into each other. Cross-pollenating, twisting into something altogether new.

She saw a mystery of a man.

A man she'd seen somewhere before.

A man familiar to her.

This scene is familiar, too. Wild flowers, a wicker basket, gingham cloth spread over a spot where the meadow was just thin enough. She remembers a song and soft humming. She hums along with it. She remembers arms around her back, and her's around his neck.

She sways.

And hums.

And closes her eyes.

What a cherished moment this was.

And then she forgets.

Her eyes are open now.

"Hi, how do you do?"

She sounds like she just woke up from a dream (the kind induced by warm milk and honey). Her arms are around a stranger's neck, his sat awkwardly at his sides.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologizes, but she doesn't sound sorry. And she doesn't move away either. "It must've been the heat getting to me."

Remiel Calcifet